


The Boys and the Beer

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-02
Updated: 2005-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes and Gunn have a quiet pint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boys and the Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

NOTES: set post "The Thin Dead Line". Title and quote from "Wed" by Henry Cuyler Bunner.

**The Boys and the Beer**

 

_‘I sometimes think, when twelve is struck_  
By the clock on the mantel, tinkling clear,  
I would take – and thank the gods for the luck –  
One single hour with the boys and the beer.’  
(Henry Cuyler Bunner – ‘Wed’) 

“This remind you of home?”

“Good God no. Nothing like this.” Wesley smiled wryly and swiped his finger into the now empty packet of salted nuts, then sucked the residue. 

“Then why do you come here?” Gunn pulled the packet of his reach, resisting the urge to slap Wesley’s fingers. “Can’t be for the food.”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “You’ve found my secret shame. Beer and nuts. And cheese and onion crisps.” He gave a little melancholy sigh.

Gunn shook his head in wondering disgust. “You know how bad these are for your heart?” He waved the discarded wrapper in front of his face. “Loaded with nitrates and saturated fat.”

Wesley reached over and took another sip of his beer. “Speaks the man who lives on burritos and coke.” He sounded smug.

“I’m not the one who just got shot in the gut.” It came out angrier than he’d intended and he looked down at his own drink, worrying at the label with restless fingers. 

“I’m feeling much better, you know.” His voice was soft now; had lost that defiant tone, and he was looking at Gunn over the top of his glasses. “The physio said I would be out of the chair in a week.” 

“Yeah, well, you gotta take care of yourself.” He didn’t look at Wesley, just kept picking at the edge of the peeling label. “You’re just skin and bones.”

“Oddly enough, you’re not the first person in the world to point that out.” He had that dry quality to his voice, as if he knew he’d said something funny, but no one else was clever enough to work out the joke. 

It didn’t take much to figure that one out. “Cordelia?” It sounded exactly like something she would say.

“Among others.” He sipped at his beer again, then folded his lips together to remove the creamy foam moustache. 

“Your mom?” 

Wesley gave a half sigh and smiled. “She was of the opinion that my- " he paused and took another drink “- lack of physical stature could be attributed to iron deficiency. Her remedies for my supposed anemia consisted of large doses of black pudding and offal.” He shuddered a little.

“And I’m thinking that black pudding isn’t a fun dessert choice?” 

Wesley gave a snort of laughter. “It’s a sausage made with suet, oats and congealed pig’s blood. Actually, Angel would probably love it.” He sighed softly. “It’s considered to be something of a delicacy.”

“Think I’ll give it a miss.” He heard the sudden wistfulness in Wesley’s voice, not sure if it was for things lost long ago, or more recently. “My mom was the same, ‘cept she fell for the whole Popeye routine. Spinach and cabbage greens,” he offered in solidarity.

“I’m not sure which is worse. I have devastating memories of boiled cabbage from school.”

“Nah, that blood thing wins hands down.” He thought of dinners with his mother and Alonna and was overwhelmed by a sudden desperate homesickness. “She made the best banana cream pie in the world. Man, that crust would just melt in your mouth.”

“My Aunt Janet made a wonderful spotted dick.”

Gunn spat his beer out onto the table. “Not the sort of thing you wanna be sharing there, Wes.”

“It’s a steamed suet pudding with currants, Gunn,” he explained with a patient laugh.

“No blood?”

“Platelet free. She used to make it when we went to stay with them in the holidays.” And now Wes looked homesick, as if he was remembering a really happy time. “God, my cousin and I used to be able to finish a pudding between us.” 

“Like to have seen that.” 

“There was this one dinner party, and Geoff and I sneaked into the kitchen and swapped the jug of custard for cream of chicken soup. And everyone at the party was much too polite to say anything, just ate the pudding with cold chicken soup. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on my father’s face.”

Gunn couldn’t help smiling at the eager description of the practical joke. It was just the sort of thing he would have done when he was a kid. 

“Of course, we both caught it when the guests went home. I couldn’t sit comfortably for a few days after that.” And Gunn thought suddenly of the hospital, of the fine scars on Wesley’s back, and decided he didn’t like Wesley’s dad all that much.

“You’ve no brothers or sisters, then?”

Wesley shook his head. “Only child, I’m afraid. Terribly spoiled and precociously obnoxious, I’m sure.”

Gunn sincerely doubted that. “Must have been lonely.”

Wesley considered this. “Yes, I suppose it was. I read a great deal.” He gave an embarrassed grin. “That would be rather obvious, wouldn’t it?” 

“Just a bit.” He returned the smile.

“You miss her a lot, don’t you?” He said it softly, and at first Gunn wasn’t sure if he’d heard him correctly.

“Your sister.” Wesley prodded gently.

Gunn nodded. It hurt, not the huge unmanageable grief it had been a year ago; more like an underlying ache, like poking his tongue against a loose tooth and setting a nerve on fire. He wasn’t ever going to stop missing her.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Wesley was serious now, his glasses pushed right up to the bridge of his nose.

“What?” He had lost the thread of the conversation.

“How you can stand to work with -” he was going to say Angel, Gunn knew he was, and then he changed it to “– us, after what happened to Alonna.”

“Someone’s gotta fight the good fight, Wes. It’s what we do. Hell, if we don’t do it, who will?”

Wesley was staring at him, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

“What? What did I say?” 

Wesley blinked and shook his head, as if to clear it. “It’s… it’s nothing.” He looked into his beer mug. “We’re doing okay, aren’t we?”

The question was loaded with so much more than he could answer here. So he didn’t try. He simply leaned across the table and held out his fist, appreciating the look of joy on the other man’s face as he responded to the gesture.

“We’re doing fine, Wes,” he whispered.


End file.
